


stay with me, no, you don't need to run

by Marshmellowtea



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Asexual Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Acephobia, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Literal Sleeping Together, Protective Tim Stoker, Rape Aftermath, can we make that a tag? i want that to be a tag, nothing graphic happens it's all just the comfort and aftermath, the boys are huuuggiiiing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:42:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25101841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marshmellowtea/pseuds/Marshmellowtea
Summary: Jon turns up at Tim's front door in the early morning needing some security and a hug.Thankfully, Tim is willing and able to offer both.
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker
Comments: 7
Kudos: 174





	stay with me, no, you don't need to run

**Author's Note:**

> i was uhh. i was thinking about how the fandom underutilizes the fact that tim was/is a big brother and i wanted to write him having that big brother instinct. unfortunately my brain also opts for angst so adsfjlkasdjfaksfd. i'm sorry if any of this is ooc? :'D

A persistent knocking wakes Tim from his sleep. 

At first, he tries to ignore it, but it continues, and Christ, whoever’s at the door must be really freaking stubborn. He groans, stretching and turning to look at his phone. 2:37 AM. 

“Oh goddammit, are you kidding me?” he grumbles, looking at his notifications for any recent text messages or calls. There aren’t any, and that just makes his frustration grow. 

He grumbles as he makes his way to the door, glancing through the peephole to get a look at who he’s dealing with. He catches a glimpse of dark skin and greying hair, and he immediately rolls his eyes and groans. He pulls back and puts his hand on the knob, preparing his rant in his head, and he sighs before thrusting the door open. 

“Jon, what the hell are you doing—“ he starts, but he freezes in his tracks as soon he gets another, clearer look at his face. 

There are tears streaming down his cheeks. He’s crying. Jon is _crying_. 

Tim sucks in a breath, his eyes flicking over Jon’s form. He’s also trembling, barely keeping himself upright on his skinny legs, and it’s so bad that Tim’s kind of surprised he didn’t catch it through the peephole. His arms are wrapped around his own chest, hugging himself tightly, and it looks like he’s clawing at his skin through the fabric of his shirt, which, to Tim's surprise, is partially unbuttoned. His clothes are rumpled and even torn in some places, like he’s been struggling against someone, and that's really what makes the uneasiness settle in the pit of his stomach. 

In short, Jon is a goddamn _mess_. Tim opens his mouth in an attempt to speak, but nothing comes out except a soft gasp. 

“I-I’m sorry,” Jon says quietly, his voice choked with held back sobs. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go...” 

Seeing him look so goddamn vulnerable honestly breaks Tim’s heart, and he bites his lip, a surge of protectiveness swelling in his chest. He steps aside, gesturing him in. “Come inside,” he says, his voice softening. 

Jon stumbles across the threshold, and he stands helplessly in the front entrance, looking so hopelessly lost. Tim shuts the door behind him and gives him another look over in the lighting. He doesn’t see much more than what’s already been taken stock of, but he does notice that...

...that Jon’s pants are unzipped. Christ. 

It shouldn’t be that much of a deal, it _shouldn’t be_ , but given how roughed up the rest of him is, it sets off alarm bells in Tim’s brain. He sucks in a breath through his teeth, considering what he should say next. 

“Do you want something to drink, Jon?” he asks quietly, keeping his voice slow and gentle, like he’s speaking to a frightened child. “I have hot chocolate, if you’d like? I know you have a bit of a sweet tooth, and well, it looks like you could use some sugar right now...” 

Jon hiccups, scrubbing his face and nodding slightly. “I-I’d like that, yes. Thank you...” 

“It’s nothing. Here, why don’t you sit in the kitchen, yeah?” 

He guides him over to a small table and helps him sit down, and then he heads over to the counters to make hot chocolate for Jon, and coffee for himself. Jon watches him as he bustles around, and while his gaze isn’t creepy per se, there’s an odd sort of desperation there that makes Tim’s heart ache. It feels like Jon thinks he’ll disappear if he takes his eyes off him for even a moment. 

Needless to say, he’s very much relieved when he can finally bring their mugs over. 

“Here you go...” he murmurs, setting the hot cocoa down in front of him, complete with whipped cream and cinnamon. “Drink up, okay? Hopefully it’ll warm you up...” God, he’s shivering so bad. 

Jon nods, and he whispers a quiet “Thank you”. Tim sits across from him with his own drink, and they both take a few sips in silence. Tim takes a moment to steel himself, and then he clears his throat. 

“So. Wanna tell me what happened?” he asks, forcing his voice to stay casual. 

Jon stays quiet for a few moments, continuing to drink his hot chocolate. He looks at Tim uneasily, tears shining in his eyes. 

“You had a date tonight, right?” Tim asks, a nervous lump rising in his throat. “How’d that go?” 

Jon licks his lips, cradling the mug in his hands. More tears are sent trailing down his cheeks when he blinks, and the bags beneath them are so much more pronounced. Normally, that would make him look older, but the pain and fear radiating off of him makes him look so, so _young_. 

_He’s really showing his age_ , Tim thinks mirthlessly. 

“I-it was fine,” Jon says, “at first, at least. We ate and had some nice conversation, all that.” He swallows thickly, looking down at the table. “But then we got to the bedroom.” 

Shit. Tim feels nausea pool in his stomach, and his voice is hard when he asks, “What happened?” 

Jon sniffles, and he takes another sip of his drink. “I-I honestly don’t know what I was expecting there. It’s my fault, really—“ 

“It’s _not_ ,” Tim says firmly, reaching his hand out to touch Jon’s arm, before thinking better of it and letting it fall on the table. “Jon, it’s not.” 

Jon sniffs again, drawing the back of his hand across his nose. 

Tim inhales sharply, trying to get himself together. He thinks he already knows what happened, but he still asks, “Did they force you to do something you didn’t want to do?” 

Silence. And then a nod. 

“I said no,” Jon says quietly, his hands shaking. “I-I said...I said _no_.” 

Tim takes in another deep breath. He can feel anger seeping into his veins, but he does his best to fight it back. “Jon, I’m so sorry—“ 

“I said stop!” Jon blurts out all of a sudden, and the next thing Tim knows he’s hyperventilating, words spilling out over his lips in a frantic rant. “I-I wanted it to _stop_ , I didn’t want it! H-how _goddamn_ hard is it for people to understand I don’t _like_ it?! She-she _knew_ sex was off the table when we met up, so why did she force it?! I-I just...” 

Jon gasps, out of breath. Just as quickly as he’d started rambling, he stops. 

And then he _breaks_ , his chest heaving with a sob. He clutches tighter to his mug, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“I-I’m sorry,” he hiccups, his shoulders shaking something awful. “I-I-I just...I didn’t _want_ it...” 

Tim’s chest aches. “Hey, buddy. It’s okay,” he whispers, his voice purposefully soft. He puts his drink down, gets to his feet and makes his way over to him, trying to give him enough space to breathe. 

Jon looks up at him with big, watery eyes. Tim bites his lip. 

“Can I hug you?” he asks, his voice soft. 

Jon doesn't respond for a moment, his whole body shaking with sobs. Finally, though, he nods, and Tim bends down and wraps an arm around him. He draws him into his chest, gently prying his hot chocolate out of his hands, just so his trembling doesn’t spill it. He places it on the table before wrapping his other arm around him, squeezing him close and tucking his head under his chin. He holds him tightly and sways him from side to side, rubbing his back soothingly. 

“It’s alright, Jon. You’re alright. It’s not your fault,” Tim whispers, his voice tight with restrained anger. “She was in the wrong here. She was the one who _hurt_ you.” 

Jon shivers, and he clings tighter to Tim’s shirt like he’s a lifeline. He tucks his face into the crook of his shoulder, awkwardly pushing his glasses up onto his head in the process, and Tim gives him a gentle squeeze. 

“You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against his temple. 

Jon melts against him, sinking further into his arms. Tim’s very aware of the fact that Jon’s full weight is rested against him, but given how light he is, it’s really not much of a struggle to hold him up, even with his shaking. Even if it were difficult Tim wouldn’t let go of him, wouldn’t let him collapse. After all, he’s here to offer support. That’s all he can give right now. 

Jon cries into his shoulder for a little longer, and Tim holds him through it, stroking his hair and rubbing his back comfortingly. Eventually, though, Jon’s tears slow, and his fingers loosen their grip on Tim’s shirt. 

“You okay?” Tim asks softly, pulling away a little. 

Jon does the same, looking up at him with a tired, soft expression. “Yeah...thank you...” he warbles, scrubbing at his eyes with his fist. He pulls his glasses back down on his face and winces, and Tim assumes they’re probably smudged. 

“It’s nothing, Jon. I’m here for you,” he says softly. He’s quiet for a moment, thinking through his options. “Hey...where do you want to go from here? Do you...do you want to press charges, or...” 

Jon shakes his head vigorously, before leaning his head lightly back against Tim’s shoulder. “I...can I shower? Is that okay?” 

Tim gives him a soft squeeze. “Course it is,” he mumbles. “Dunno that I have clothes for you, though. I mean, I’m happy to give you some of mine, but I dunno about underwear...” 

“That’s fine,” Jon says, his fingers finding purchase in the front of Tim’s shirt. “I just wanna feel clean again...” 

Oh. Tim’s heart breaks all over again. “Okay, buddy,” he says softly, dropping his lips onto the top of Jon’s head in a sort of kiss. “I’ll find something for you.” 

They both break apart, and Jon cradles his mug again. He looks up at Tim with an expression that’s simultaneously thoughtful and worried, and Christ, how is one man so cute? 

“Can I finish this first?” he asks quietly. 

Tim smiles softly back. “Of course, mate. I’ll go get your clothes for you, if you’d like?“ The desperation from before hits him, and he winces. “You’ll be okay here?” 

Jon nods, taking a sip of his hot chocolate. “I’ll be fine. Thank—um. Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome, Jon,” Tim says, and he finally takes the next step and kisses him on the forehead. 

The soft, warm smile he sees on Jon’s face makes the decision worth it, and Tim reaches out and squeezes his shoulder. 

“I’ll be back,” he says softly, getting to his feet and heading off for his bedroom. 

* * *

He comes back with a pair of boxers, one of his t-shirts, and a pair of pajama pants. He knows it’ll all be comically oversized on Jon’s tiny, tiny form, but that’s okay. He doesn’t think Jon will mind. 

“How’s this?” he asks, presenting his choices to him. 

Jon pushes his empty mug away, taking the bundle of clothes into his arms. He looks through it for a moment, before smiling softly, clutching them close to his chest. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly, his voice still shaking slightly. 

“You’re welcome, buddy,” Tim says, reaching over and petting his hair. “You remember how the shower works and all that?” 

Jon nods, leaning into Tim’s hand slightly. “Yeah, I do. Um...I...” he starts, before looking down at the table again. “I know I’ve said it a lot already, but really, I can’t thank you enough...” 

“Well, you’re welcome, Jon,” Tim says softly back, giving his head a gentle pat. “But I’m happy to do it, honestly. I’m here for you. I promise.” 

Jon swallows, and he nods. He sits there for a moment longer, and Tim strokes his hair absentmindedly. Eventually, though, he pushes away from the table, and Tim lets his hand drop. 

“O-okay. I’m gonna shower now, if that’s alright?” 

“Of course, buddy. Call if you need anything, mmkay?” 

Jon smiles faintly and nods, before scurrying off to the bathroom. 

* * *

When Jon returns to the kitchen, Tim has finished cleaning out their mugs, and he’s sitting at the table again, scrolling mindlessly through Twitter. He looks up when he hears Jon approach, and he smiles when he sees him. As expected, the man is practically swimming in his clothes, looking positively tiny in the oversized pajamas. It’s pretty goddamn adorable, and Tim tries to bite back a laugh, lest he earn the wrath of Jon’s scowl. 

“Hey bud,” he says, turning off his phone and getting to his feet. “Ready for bed? I mean, I’m assuming you’re staying the night, right?” 

Jon nods, yawning and rubbing his eyes. He stands there for a moment, before hesitantly moving forward, his arms open as if going in for a hug. Tim raises an eyebrow, but he opens his arms as well. 

He’s greeted with Jon throwing himself into his chest, nuzzling into his shoulder and clinging tightly to the back of his shirt. Both of Tim’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but he wraps his arms around him in turn, squeezing him close. 

“What’s all this for?” he asks. 

Jon just shushes him, tangling his hands tighter into the back of his shirt. He droops against Tim’s chest, his head resting so softly against his collarbone, and Tim bites his lip, squeezing him tightly. 

“Sorry,” Jon says after a moment, hesitating before breaking away. “I just...I dunno.” 

“No, it’s okay,” Tim says, ruffling Jon’s hair and laughing at the peeved expression he receives in return. Adorable. “I get it. You just...need some reassurance right now, yeah?” 

Jon nods, fiddling with the hem of the t-shirt. “Yeah...” 

His voice cracks a little, and he rubs at his eyes with his shoulder. Tim reaches over and pats his arm, letting his hand drop down to Jon’s and giving it a soft squeeze. 

“Let’s get to sleep, okay?” he says gently, rubbing the back of his hand with his thumb. “Do you wanna take my bed? I don’t mind sleeping on the couch, it’s pretty comfortable.” 

Jon shakes his head. “C-can we...? Um...” 

He swallows, looking away in embarrassment. Tim’s brow furrows, but he smiles encouragingly. 

“Yeah?” 

Jon sighs, and his fingers tighten around Tim’s hand. 

“Can we share the bed?” he asks quietly. 

Tim smiles widely. “Course, bud. I don’t mind.” 

Jon gives him a tiny grin in return, his shoulders slumping in relief. “Okay,” he says, bumping his body into Tim’s in an odd (but cute) expression of affection. 

Tim chuckles, and he gestures to the hallway. “Let’s get to the bedroom, alright?” 

“Okay,” Jon says again, and he continues to hold Tim’s hand as he’s led away from the kitchen. 

He pauses in the bedroom doorway, however, and Tim turns to see an uneasy expression falling over his face. He squeezes his hand, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles. 

“We don’t have to share if you don’t—“ 

“I want to,” Jon says, but his hand is trembling slightly. “I-I don’t...I don’t want to be alone, Tim, I really don’t.” He squeezes his eyes shut and inhales sharply. 

“Okay, I understand,” Tim says. “Is there any way I can make this easier for you?” 

Jon pauses for a moment. Then, he shakes his head. “N-no. I’m being ridiculous, sorry.” 

“You’re not, Jon. You’re fine.” 

Jon shrugs, shuffling his feet. He lets go of Tim’s hand and sits down on the bed, setting his phone down on the bedside table.

“Oh, do you wanna charge that?” 

Jon shakes his head, biting at the tip of his thumb. “It’s not like anyone’s gonna call me,” he mumbles. 

“Ah.” 

A silence falls over the room, and for a moment, they just sit in it. Then, Jon pats the bed next to him, and Tim smiles and makes his way over there. He sits on the edge, leaving ample room between him and Jon, just in case. 

“Hey there.” 

“Hey.” Jon flops down on his side, reaching out and clutching onto the hem of Tim’s shirt, tugging on it lightly. “I’m tired.” 

“Awww. I know, bud. Let me plug my phone in and I’ll join you, okay?” 

He reaches over him, and Jon apparently takes that as an opportunity to drop his upper body into his lap. It’s a bit awkward, but Tim’s arms are long enough to reach even with the obstacle. 

“You’re warm,” Jon mumbles. 

Tim pauses from turning off his alarms (he sincerely doubts Jon wants to wake up and do a run with him, and he doesn’t want to interrupt his sleep anyway. He needs his rest dammit) to pat his head, chuckling lightly. 

“Thank you. I try,” he says, setting his phone down and straightening back up. “Here, let’s get under the covers, okay?” 

Jon sucks in a breath, but he nods, sitting up as well. He watches Tim slide under the blanket with an inscrutable gaze, but he slides in quickly after him when Tim lifts the comforter for him. He curls up into his side, resting his head on his chest and throwing an arm and a leg over him. He frowns, and shifts his head a bit, before finally settling down with his ear pressed against the center of Tim’s rib cage. 

It takes Tim a moment to realize it, but he’s pretty sure he’d been trying to find his heartbeat. God, that’s precious. He doesn't even try to fight back his smile, and he rubs Jon’s back soothingly, feeling the ridges of his spine and ribs under his skin. 

“Hey. I love you,” Tim says softly, reaching up with his free hand to stroke his hair. “You’re my buddy, you know that?” 

Jon tenses slightly, burying his face into Tim’s shirt. For a moment, he thinks he’s done something wrong, and that concern only grows as he feels wetness seep into his shirt. 

“Jon?! Hey—“ 

“I love you too,” Jon mumbles before he can say anything else, his fingers tightening against his shirt. “I...thank you...” 

“Uh...you’re welcome...are you okay hon?” 

Jon nods, hiccuping softly. “Thank you,” he says again, his voice wavering. 

Tim doesn’t know what else to say. He buries his face into Jon’s hair and presses a kiss to his head, holding him tight to his chest. 

“Thank you...th-thank you...” 

Jon cries for a little longer, but it’s not as intense as it was the first time that night. It’s just tears leaking into Tim’s shirt, shoulders trembling slightly, and the occasional soft sniffle. After a few minutes, he calms, his chest movements evening out, and Tim quickly realizes that he’s fallen asleep. 

“Oh,” he says softly, letting out a chuckle. “Goodnight, sweetheart.” 

He knows Jon’s going to be cranky in the morning. Probably more so than usual, since he’s likely going to be embarrassed about being so vulnerable and cuddly. But, well, they can deal with that when they wake up. For now, Tim’s happy to simply hold him as he sleeps, hoping that it makes him feel at least a little safer. 

And maybe tomorrow they can talk a little more about the... _event_ that led him here. It might be a long shot, given that Jon will probably have shut back down again, but there was a part of Jon’s rant that had stuck with Tim, and he needs answers for it. 

_How goddamn hard is it for people to understand I don’t like it?_

People. Has this happened more than once? Had this just been his breaking point? Tim isn’t sure, but he does know one thing—he won’t ever, _ever_ let someone hurt Jon like that again. He swears it. 

He sighs, adjusting Jon more comfortably against his chest. He holds him close, letting himself drift off knowing his friend is safe in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm planning on writing a follow up chapter from jon's pov but we'll see if/when that ever happens lmao. 
> 
> title is from my blood by twenty one pilots b/c i'm emo


End file.
